Faded Photographs
by Mala
Summary: Vaughn bought Sydney a present in "Spirit". What brought that on?


Title: "Faded Photographs" 1/1 Author: Mala  
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com  
Spoilers: Episode 1.10, "Spirit."  
Rating/Classification: PG-13 for language, angst, Vaughn POV.  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and concepts of "Alias".  
Summary: Vaughn bought Sydney a present? What brought THAT on?  
  
You used to go antiquing with Alice. Wake up early on a Sunday morning, tug on your jeans, a t-shirt, Converse without socks, and let her drag you all over the Valley looking for cute little knickknacks.  
  
She couldn't see the circles under your eyes...feel the calluses on your fingers...all she could see was this vision of Mike. Mike the perfect boyfriend who really wasn't so perfect but would smile and nod and say "Oh, that's really nice! You should buy that" when you showed him a fifty-year-old curio cabinet instead of "Screw you, Alice, I only got two hours of sleep last night and we didn't catch the bad guys!"  
  
This, you think, is why you find yourself in an antique store by yourself, of your own volition. Because you're going to buy her something ridiculous and old and dusty to apologize for turning out to be a complete asshole instead of the attentive sweet guy she wanted you to be. Maybe you'll even write that on the Christmas card.   
  
You're too damn nice for your own good. You've been brought up too well. You open doors for women and say "Ma'am" and always eat everything on your plate and you buy presents for ex-girlfriends when most men would write them off as the past and forgotten.  
  
The store is small and moldy and full of memory and even the bell on the door was muted--barely a "ping"--when you pushed through. You search shelves with your eyes, wondering what she would like. Classy? Understated? Silly? There's a yellow and green cuckoo clock with bears in lederhosen on it and you almost think she'll find it amusing. She'll throw her head back and laugh and the fatigue lines around her eyes will disappear for just an instant and you'll see what she looked like before They got to her. Before They turned her into someone else. Or maybe you'll get her the small, velvet clutch purse behind the counter...and she'll be speechless because you're so thoughtful and she'll take it with her on the next assignment, have a little bit of you there with her, giving her support she doesn't even really need.  
  
It's when your fingers, at last, close around the oxidized silver picture frame that you realize you're thinking about Sydney. Buying for Sydney.  
  
You think she'll take some cherished sepia-toned picture and slide it beneath the glass. She'll smile and remember a day when things were simpler...when she didn't know Good and Evil existed and didn't have to choose sides. She'll be able to capture just one moment where nothing hurts and no one changes.   
  
The little old lady who owns the store wraps the frame in tissue paper for you and tucks it into a purple gift bag. One stop shopping. She pats your hand as you shell out the dollars, a beatific grin on her lined face. "Your wife will love it."  
  
"S-she's not my wife!" you stammer and blush. "Just a friend." Alice would kill you three times over if you were still dating. Raised too right and all that.  
  
"Handsome, if you put that much thought into a gift...believe you me, one day, she WILL be."  
  
You shake your head and laugh, softly, as you leave. As the bell chirps. As the afternoon sunlight hits you full in the face and you cower, like a mole, unused to the brightness. Normal people can't know...can't possibly understand...you're a handler, not a boyfriend. Not a fiancé. Not a husband.   
  
Sydney Bristow will never be your wife.  
  
She'll only drag you out of bed at eight in the morning on a Sunday if she's scared, if she's angry, if someone she loves is dying. And you'll tug on your sneakers and gladly go straight into Hell for her.  
  
You're a handler.  
  
You're a handler who is stupidly, unequivocally, in love.  
  
And all the picture frames in the world can't capture just one moment where she'll love you back...just one moment where you'll both live happily ever after.  
  
Just one moment where you'll get your Christmas wish.  
  
-end-  
December 17, 2001.  
  



End file.
